11:59
by call.me.clueless
Summary: He said hello. She said goodbye. A little love that could've told in time. Almost Ichigo/Rukia


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

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"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart." -Suzanne Collins

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She is one hundred and fifty years old. She is old, but ageless all the same. The years have past slowly, agonizingly slow, and she knows that she will never wrinkle or age again. She is frozen in time while the world around her constantly changes. Then she meets him. The brief moment that their eyes connect and the realization occurs to her that he can _see_, that he can _understand_, she knows that he will be someone different. She notices his fiery orange hair, his lithe movements as he struggles to fight against this new enemy.

She instantly admires his courage. For such a simple human, he was willing to _try_.

Without a second thought, she gives him a fraction of her powers and watches her world change again.

"Hello," His gruff voice says, slicing through the darkness that shrouded them, "I'm Ichigo,"

For the first time in what could have been eternity, she smiles.

* * *

She is one hundred and fifty-one years old. The days have flown, her memories of another eventful year compacted together. She recalls everything; the smiles, the tears, the laughter, the fights, the ups, the downs, the highs and the lows. She plays with the bed of grass beneath her small figure and thinks. She remembers her childhood best friend coming after her and fighting with the mysterious boy of now-sixteen. She remembers almost completely dying, sacrificing herself for the sake of that same boy, until he, by some miracle, came to her rescue. She remembers the smirk on his face as he stood, blocking the fire from ever touching her skin. She remembers the way that he befriended her own friends. She remembers his hearty laugh. She remembers his courage, his tenacity.

She closes her eyes and sighs.

She remembers everything.

She remembers the way he looks at her female best friend. She remembers the secret jokes that they share. She remembers the flirting that corresponds with their hidden moments. She remembers, watching from the background, as they grow closer together.

She supposes that she should be happy for them. She thinks that the pair of them, her and Ichigo, would never have worked. She knows that she shouldn't feel this way. She knows, and yet, even if the so-called afterlife where nothing should harm you or affect you in any way, it does.

She leans back against the far too green grass, loathing herself.

* * *

She is one hundred and fifty-two years old. She laughs with her friends, smiling and happier than she can ever remember being. Her eyes catch his and she feels her breathing hitch. Their smiles widen simultaneously. She knows that she shouldn't be so happy about this simple boy, a mere seventeen compared to her advanced years. It will never work, she reminds herself, but continues to smile. She's become so attached to this boy that she can't let him go just yet. They have become the best of friends, but she isn't sure that it will last.

It's later that she realizes that his smiles were filled with false hopes and lies called promises. It is only later that she _knows_. She knows that the sweet smiles and kind eyes aren't meant for her, but perhaps her naive female friend. It's later that she realizes that she's been such a fool to think that she stood a chance. Then, of course, it's when she is pulling his heaving, drunken frame after a night of rejoicing that she knows that she is the queen of idiots.

She can smell the alcohol on his breath and wonders how she got herself into these ridiculous situations.

* * *

She is one hundred and fifty-three years old and she wonders what the future will hold. She has an eternity to figure things out and settle her mind, but she is never one for being patient. She prefers to live in the "now", but occasionally, her mind betrays her and leads her astray. Her thoughts are jumbled, her heart aflutter, and she can't always see straight. She believes that something is wrong and that she will finally die soon. She is only partly right.

She sees the pair of them alone together for the first time and she desperately wants to cringe or throw up or die. She's not entirely sure which one yet. She feels like her heart has been shredded to bits, like her body has been hit by a hollow. It is in this moment that she makes the decision. She turns her back to the couple and began walking. She feels betrayed beyond the shadow of a doubt. She has run out of other ideas regarding the situation and decides that this is for the best. Maybe if she goes away for awhile, the agonizing pain will subside. Even just for a little while. Maybe, just maybe.

She is one hundred and fifty-three years old and she will not see them again for quite some time.

* * *

She is one hundred and fifty-eight years old. In five years time, she pretends that she has grown. She lies to herself, feigning indifference towards the new situations that she has been told about. She has heard the news of the marriage of that mysterious orange-haired man and the female best friend from long ago. She shouldn't have been surprised, really, given their history that she was never a part of. She should have seen it coming sooner rather than later. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. The pain in chest, where her stone cold heart should have been beating, was as real as ever.

That pain, the crippling pain that had kept her away for the last five years, multiplied tenfold when she hears that the couple will be arriving the next day. She doesn't wish to see them. She doesn't wish to witness their love firsthand. She would never wish that upon anyone who was in this much agony just at the thought of them.

Though she is one hundred and fifty-eight years, she is still the jealous school girl that had pretended to be for so long. She has the mind of a sage, the body of a thirteen-year-old girl, and the heart of a woman twice her age. She has been beaten, abused, torn apart countless times, and yet, she still remains. After all the years of forcing herself to accept the facts that she faced, she knows that if she sees the happy couple the following day, she will fall apart again. She knows, somehow, that she must get away before it happens again.

There is something, though, that still keeps her there. So, she waits, as per usual.

She finds herself sitting in the same meadow from her last happy years and is determined not to cry. Naturally, she sees them before they can see her. She notes their hands, clasped together so tightly that she is sure even cutting them off with her sword would separate the pair. She sees the loving look in their eyes and is instantaneously flooded with hatred and jealousy towards the girl. She longs to be in her position, but knows that it will never be her.

It will be better this way, she thinks, standing from her position and walking the opposite way. She hardens her resolve and knows that it is better to get away while she still has the chance. She has to stop killing herself over this. She has to stop wasting hours thinking about the past memories they shared and the 'what ifs'. She turned on her heel, taking a final glance at the pair.

"Goodbye,"

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A/N: Whoa. That was a lot of angst. Okay, so I don't actually ship Ichigo/Orihime, but I love to write from Rukia's perspective of how things are. I thoroughly enjoy trying to muddle through her thoughts and her personality. I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it!

Don't forget; leave me a review to tell me how I did or give me any criticism!

XOXO -clueless


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